called them. His parents would surely cut off his inheritance if they ever found out before they died.
“Chip.” Tony rolled the name, and another ice cube over his tongue. “Yes, very wholesome. Very Leave It to Beaver. ”
Brian was actually thinking of My Three Sons, but he didn’t think it wise to correct his new employer.
Tony perused his newest prospect. Brian had a face that made men and women stare. Alarmingly handsome with almost black hair, his blue eyes glimmered like cold silver. He had a small sleek nose, pouting lips, not much of a jaw, but his wide shoulders and frame compensated for that and his shortness. But there was something Tony couldn’t place, some sly deceit beneath the clean New England charm.
“Chip. Yes, that’ll work for now. So, you wanna start off tonight?”
Brian’s pulse quickened. He immediately considered backing out, then remembered the two-hundred-seventy-three dollars in his Chembank account with four hundred required rent dollars chasing close behind. He also felt pleasantly excited. “Sure.”
Tony smiled and gave him the address of a Charles in the East Nineties. “He’s nice,” Tony soothed. “A regular. Nothing weird.”
“I’ll give it a shot,” Brian grinned as he buttoned his coat in the hallway.
Tony leaned against the open door. “Usually that’s all they need.”
Brian pressed the elevator button, turning to give his new freelance employer a last glance. Tony had wanted to try the boy out, but he seemed a bit skittish. “By the way,” he said as the elevator chimed and the door slid open. “Where did you get that name, Chip?”
Brian stepped into the elevator and smiled at Tony. This would be the first of many dramatic exits in his new career.
“He was my first dog.”
After a few experiences with “clients,” Brian’s illusions about escorting were cleanly shattered. He failed to realize that most men who choose to pay for sex don’t get it any other way, and are not very handsome, nor especially talented in bed. He did, however, enjoy being admired, and often took pleasure in laying back and letting a nervous out-of-town husband lick his smooth musculature in a fine midtown hotel. Brian also figured out how to get better rates than those provided by Tony. He simply offered clients a bit more fun for a bit more cash. Most of the time, however, it was work; choking unresponsive puds, rubbing sagging bellies and hairy backs of men he’d never look at twice.
This went on for a few months, about four times a week. The phone would ring.
“Are you available?” Tony’s faux-sexy voice would purr. Usually Brian was available, despite a pang of dread and excitement. He began to keep a stash of fifties in an envelope in his underwear drawer. Brian’s roommate seemed satisfied with Brian’s job description as a home fitness instructor. He probably wouldn’t have minded if Brian were honest with him, as long as he paid his half of the rent on the first of each month, which he did, in cash.
He rarely met any of the other young men who were in Tony’s employ, except for one occasion where he visited Tony to cash a few credit card slips. Tony invited Brian to sit in his living room while he got some money. Relaxing on a couch and watching TV was a muscular guy in a black T-shirt, jeans, and boots.
After Brian introduced himself, immediately regretting having given his real name, he maintained a stilted conversation with the guy. They both seemed embarrassed to be seen at Tony’s. They carefully skirted any talk of their whoring. The awkwardness and humiliation thickened the air between them, filled only by car commercials from the TV. Tony returned, cash in hand, and they parted company.
Brian made a few attempts to get other jobs in addition to his escorting. He often found himself spending his income from whoring on silly things; expensive dinners alone, nightly video rentals, pricey clothes. He always felt best after
“Chip.” Tony rolled the name, and another ice cube over his tongue. “Yes, very wholesome. Very Leave It to Beaver. ”
Brian was actually thinking of My Three Sons, but he didn’t think it wise to correct his new employer.
Tony perused his newest prospect. Brian had a face that made men and women stare. Alarmingly handsome with almost black hair, his blue eyes glimmered like cold silver. He had a small sleek nose, pouting lips, not much of a jaw, but his wide shoulders and frame compensated for that and his shortness. But there was something Tony couldn’t place, some sly deceit beneath the clean New England charm.
“Chip. Yes, that’ll work for now. So, you wanna start off tonight?”
Brian’s pulse quickened. He immediately considered backing out, then remembered the two-hundred-seventy-three dollars in his Chembank account with four hundred required rent dollars chasing close behind. He also felt pleasantly excited. “Sure.”
Tony smiled and gave him the address of a Charles in the East Nineties. “He’s nice,” Tony soothed. “A regular. Nothing weird.”
“I’ll give it a shot,” Brian grinned as he buttoned his coat in the hallway.
Tony leaned against the open door. “Usually that’s all they need.”
Brian pressed the elevator button, turning to give his new freelance employer a last glance. Tony had wanted to try the boy out, but he seemed a bit skittish. “By the way,” he said as the elevator chimed and the door slid open. “Where did you get that name, Chip?”
Brian stepped into the elevator and smiled at Tony. This would be the first of many dramatic exits in his new career.
“He was my first dog.”
After a few experiences with “clients,” Brian’s illusions about escorting were cleanly shattered. He failed to realize that most men who choose to pay for sex don’t get it any other way, and are not very handsome, nor especially talented in bed. He did, however, enjoy being admired, and often took pleasure in laying back and letting a nervous out-of-town husband lick his smooth musculature in a fine midtown hotel. Brian also figured out how to get better rates than those provided by Tony. He simply offered clients a bit more fun for a bit more cash. Most of the time, however, it was work; choking unresponsive puds, rubbing sagging bellies and hairy backs of men he’d never look at twice.
This went on for a few months, about four times a week. The phone would ring.
“Are you available?” Tony’s faux-sexy voice would purr. Usually Brian was available, despite a pang of dread and excitement. He began to keep a stash of fifties in an envelope in his underwear drawer. Brian’s roommate seemed satisfied with Brian’s job description as a home fitness instructor. He probably wouldn’t have minded if Brian were honest with him, as long as he paid his half of the rent on the first of each month, which he did, in cash.
He rarely met any of the other young men who were in Tony’s employ, except for one occasion where he visited Tony to cash a few credit card slips. Tony invited Brian to sit in his living room while he got some money. Relaxing on a couch and watching TV was a muscular guy in a black T-shirt, jeans, and boots.
After Brian introduced himself, immediately regretting having given his real name, he maintained a stilted conversation with the guy. They both seemed embarrassed to be seen at Tony’s. They carefully skirted any talk of their whoring. The awkwardness and humiliation thickened the air between them, filled only by car commercials from the TV. Tony returned, cash in hand, and they parted company.
Brian made a few attempts to get other jobs in addition to his escorting. He often found himself spending his income from whoring on silly things; expensive dinners alone, nightly video rentals, pricey clothes. He always felt best after
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